I was convertible into money and expressed
in money. I set the seller
of it to work, I love.
It's flat out
vulgar, spun in
order to be spinning.
This was my vascular system
of production. Namely
water. It fell on me
and my head and I want
you there, to eat
the money.

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This poem is concretely, emotionally and conceptually ABOUT The Civic Use of Nouns. Please direct any questions comments or complaints to my pseudonym, White Male Poet. He can clear up any confusion in a jiff.